


Intricate Rituals

by DoubleMastectomy



Category: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fist Fights, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, Sleepy Cuddles, but it's like mutual hurt/comfort, idk what other tags to use lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23047354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleMastectomy/pseuds/DoubleMastectomy
Summary: "You construct intricate rituals which allow you to touch the skin of other men"Val Velocity doesn't know how to be emotionally vulnerable and decides to pick a fight.
Relationships: Val Velocity/Vinyl
Comments: 16
Kudos: 39





	1. Why Don’t You Hit Me With That Pretty Fist of Yours?

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place before the comics, but sometime after that last oneshot I wrote.

Val Velocity’s fist smacks against Vinyl’s arm with all the lackluster force he can muster. A carefully calculated target, only severe enough to test Vinyl's reaction without the risk of real injury.  
  
The previously lighthearted air chills at the sound. Vaya and Vamos immediately shut up and are poised watching to see where this goes.  
  
Before Val can retract his fist Vinyl’s already grabbed it, twisting his arm down hard.  
  
The gang is outside the entrance to Tommy Chow Mein's. They'd been picking up some Power Pup when Vinyl had accidentally bumped into Val on the way out, apparently setting off the irritable man.  
  
Val yelps from the pain of Vinyl's grip and yanks his arm away, dejectedly retreating a few steps back to gather himself as his muscles burn. From behind his bangs, Vinyl is scowling, not in the mood for Val's bullshit.  
  
The day is boiling hot, not a cloud in the sky and the air golden. Through the shop's dusty windows Tommy is watching from behind the counter, amused, along with a couple of other killjoys Val can’t recognize.  
  
The stale summer air has an unmistakable stench today. And against their sweaty necks, it sticks. Val huffs a few times, still tense and facing Vinyl. He’s standing tall in opposition just daring Val to try something again. And though Val keeps his head lowered behind a loose fist defensively, his eyes looking up at Vinyl through his mask are calling for someone’s blood.  
  
“What the fuck’s your problem?!” Volume shouts cutting the tight silence. He’s rushing out of the shop, the chimes above the ripped screen door jingling as it slams shut behind him. He almost moves to grab Val to pull him away, but stops himself when he sees Val’s face.  
  
“So you’re just gonna get hurt for nothing?” he contends despite knowing Val’s already too dead set on this fight to change his stubborn mind. Val doesn’t even glance at Volume, his eyes still locked straight ahead. He runs a hand through his illuminated white hair, sweat dripping off the ends, and smirks from behind the fringe.  
  
Volume anxiously looks at Vinyl. This wasn’t a fair fight and Val'd be an idiot if he thought it was. Vinyl could probably kill him if he weren’t careful. He wouldn’t want to, of course he wouldn’t, but the desert heat makes even the kindest killjoys act without thinking and-  
  
Val lunges at Vinyl a second time, shouting, angrier than before and aiming for the face.  
  
His fist barely brushes Vinyl's jaw. A crack snaps through the air and Val’s flat on his back with a bloody nose from Vinyl’s retaliation.  
  
Volume winces. Vinyl wipes his knuckles off on his jumpsuit pants, the blood barely visible on the red and black stripes.  
  
Winded, it takes Val’s lungs a moment to learn how to breathe again. But as soon as he can, he’s painfully laughing, riling up the twins.  
  
“Get his ass!” Vamos excitedly jeers from the sidelines, though it’s unclear who the comment is directed at, probably both of them. Vaya just laughs at the entertainment.  
  
Volume shakes his head at Val, now choking on the blood gushing from his smiling face. “Shit, Velocity…” He turns away, the sight of this pointless violence between his friends making him nauseous.  
  
Val weakly gets his footing under himself again, legs awkwardly bent. He yells through his bloody teeth, “That all you got, jackrabbit?”  
  
Val pounces. But with no effort, Vinyl shoves him back down.  
  
When he hits the ground again he lets out a quick shout of pain, writhing from the jagged rocks digging into his back like claws. The shock reverbs through his spine but he still has that stupid grin on his face.  
  
Vinyl steps toward him and winds up for a listless kick to the ribs to end this, before changing his mind last minute and just kicking a puff of dirt over Val’s bruised body.  
  
He storms off, leaving Val sprawled out flat, sun burning his face. A quick flash of disappointment breaks Val’s smile. The one-sided brawl is concluded as quickly as it started.  
  
Vaya crouches down at Val’s side shading him from the sun and grabbing his hand to help him up.  
  
“Mind your own,” Val scoffs, annoyed, but reluctantly accepts the assistance anyway.  
  
Once standing, he wipes at his still bleeding nose, streaking red across his wrist and cheek. He’s panting, determination still burning in his chest. Unsatisfied, his anger is turning bitter and it shows.  
  
When he moves to follow Vinyl, Vamos grabs his shoulder. “Stop it, you’ve made your point.”  
  
“ _Have_ I?”  
  
“This isn’t a fight you can win,” Vaya sighs, brushing the dirt off Val’s white jacket, now tarnished, "let sleeping dogs lie."  
  
Val can see Vinyl a ways away now, under an old rotted telephone pole by the Ultra V’s’ parked motorbikes. He’s leaning against his own and is wrapping up his bruised hand with torn scrap fabric.  
  
Val shrugs the twins off, drops his jacket, and marches over there.  
  
As he gets close, Vinyl flashes him a warning glare not to try any more shit.  
  
Val pauses, a few feet away. “Well you started it.”  
  
Vinyl raises his eyebrows sarcastically.  
  
“You-,” Val stammers, insulted. Now realizing the humiliation he’d just suffered in front of his gang, the fresh memory becomes corporeal to him.  
  
Blood drips down his top lip.  
  
He can feel them all watching now, too, still watching the show. And Vinyl thinks this is all just funny?  
  
The sun’s hot radiation pounds at the arch of Val's back, suffocating him almost as much as Vinyl’s blows had.  
  
An angry electric shock of defensiveness shoots through his veins. His arm tenses, his nerves instinctively asking him to reach for his ray gun as if it were a comfort item, his _gun_ \- gnawing self awareness returns to him. “Fuck.”  
  
Val immediately stuffs his hands into his pants pockets in a safe surrender.  
  
A cool breeze blows between them. It blows the chemical smell of motor oil through the air. For a moment it's just the two of them standing in needless contention. The heat burns their skin again as the breeze passes.  
  
Vinyl is watching him. But there’s no hatred or fear in his eyes, just worry. Val looks down at his boots. He tries to rationalize himself. He counts the dry gravel at his feet and tries to think of any excuse he could give that wouldn’t also incriminate himself to be as pathetic as he is.  
  
Frozen in place he hears Vinyl stand up, and the crunch of his footsteps nearing. Val tenses, no longer desiring the ache of a punch, no longer asking for that pain but knowing he deserves whatever’s coming for him. He braces himself in acceptance.  
  
Vinyl wraps his arms around Val in a bearhug and cradles his head, pulling him in against his chest, gently.  
  
Mindless panic spreads through Val’s guts and for just a moment he struggles trying to worm his way out of the firm embrace before resigning himself to his unexpected situation. Breathing heavy with anxiety he grasps at Vinyl’s chest, forcing no more than a few inches of space between their bodies, grabbing fistfuls of fabric in his hands.  
  
Val tries to form words out of his rattling thoughts but can’t find the coherence.  
  
Vinyl whispers to him, too kindly, “What’s wrong?” The loaded question stabs Val like a needle through his thick skin. He grimaces refusing to be so soft as to admit weakness and open up, but still lacking the strength to lie and tell Vinyl he wants him to let go. He twists the fabric in his tight fists, gasping with dread.  
  
He halfheartedly tries to shake Vinyl off again, thankful when he fails.  
  
Vinyl strokes the back of Val’s head comfortingly. “What’s wrong...,” he repeats, his voice strained from the effort of speaking and from concern.  
  
Guilt claws at Val again hearing that. He’d hurt Vinyl, and he was still hurting him. Apologetically he stills himself in his arms, but he’s still panting and still stiff.  
  
Feeling Val freeze like that makes Vinyl hesitate, scared of genuinely hurting him. More than he’d already hurt him.  
  
“...I can let go,” he offers, remorseful.  
  
Val shakes his head against Vinyl’s chest and presses himself against him tighter, shivering.  
  
Vinyl, continuing to hold him, looks up to see the rest of the V’s watching from the shade in front of the shop. Concern is shared across all their faces. In his arms, Vinyl can feel Val trembling.  
  
“I just…” Val chokes out, “I don’t know-,” he laughs grimly, “I wanted… I need… I-” He shakes his head again, dispelling his emotional vulnerability.  
  
Vinyl rests his head against Val’s and closes his eyes, understanding.  
  
He continues to hold Val until his breathing steadies out, slowing down to a regular pace, calm and familiar.  
  
And he waits until he stops shaking, his frail body finally relaxing in Vinyl’s arms.  
  
And he waits until Val lets go of him first.  
  
Vinyl takes a step back, giving him space.  
  
Val’s soft face is neutral, expressionless by choice. And his eyes are distant behind his mask, looking away.  
  
Vinyl reaches over and sadly wipes the drying blood off his stern unmoving face.  
  
Before long the rest of the Ultra V's join them, cautiously.  
  
Volume places a hand on Val's shoulder from behind. "Hey…" he starts uneasy. Val snaps out of his stunned stupor and jerks away.  
  
"Fuck off, tumbleweed."  
  
He stumbles back again, further away, looking around at the rest of his gang, eyes darting between their judging troubled faces, "Fuck off all of you." His legs shake under him but his footing stays stable.  
  
"Val, wait," Vaya says as he’s already mounting his bike.  
  
He struggles to start the engine with his weak airy grip, but it starts. Val glances coldly over his shoulder, " _Fuck_ you guys," he concludes, riding off back to the Nest.


	2. Forgive My Mistakes and I’ll Forgive Yours

That evening the Ultra V's, sans Val, are in the Nest's living room playing video games with their housemates carefree.  
  
Val meanwhile is sitting in the Nest's bedroom. It’s just a plain room filled with mattresses and beds haphazardly, walls coated in posters and calendars and two large windows, but an otherwise empty uneventful space. He's leaning against a back corner, on one of the mattresses claimed by the V’s just thinking to himself. Since it’s still so early in the evening he’s the only killjoy in there, so he can let himself zone out and detach in peace.  
  
Vinyl enters the doorway and leans against the frame, looking at Val from across the room, arms crossed.  
  
Regret stirs in Val's stomach again as he thinks about the day's events, but he represses that fear. "Well don't be a lawyer," he says casually, motioning to the space next to him.  
  
Vinyl smiles and walks over, sitting down next to Val. A dull horror crosses his eyes for a brief second as he looks over Val's bruised face.  
  
Vinyl slides Val's mask up to his forehead to get a better look at the damage. He lightly runs his thumb over Val's swollen cheekbone, purple and red and greenish, making him flinch slightly. Vinyl is careful to avoid touching Val's nose though, likely broken from the looks of it. It’s not bent but it’s not pretty either. There’s still flakes of dried blood caught in his stubble. It strikes him that Val’s eyes don’t seem that upset.  
  
He takes Val's hands in his own and slips a small bag of painkillers into them, a few tablets of Battery Acid for if it gets to be too much. "I can tough it out," Val protests under his breath but Vinyl's already getting up to leave.  
  
"Wait!" Val grabs Vinyl's wrist and tugs on it, almost too enthusiastically asking him to sit down again. He obliges.  
  
Val pulls his mask back down and reclines onto his side, grimacing slightly at the ache he’d forgotten about. Immediately Vinyl takes back the bag of meds from him and shakes out one of the tablets, knowing Val would be too proud to take them himself. Val frowns but accepts the painkiller, rolling it around in his fingers for a second before warily placing it under his tongue, feeling it begin to dissolve.  
  
While Val wasn’t paying attention, Vinyl had laid down next to him on his back. Val relaxes and rolls over onto his back too. He stares up at the water stained ceiling, bright orange sunlight cast across it from the setting sun outside, leaving blueish afterimages in his vision.  
  
He sighs as the drowsy side effects of the meds fog his mind and make his eyelids heavy. He lets them close, and he lets himself drift off.  
  
When he wakes up, the room is pitch black. And once his eyes adjust to the staticky dark he can see it’s still mostly empty, telling him it mustn’t be past midnight, most killjoys still up goofing off elsewhere.  
  
Vinyl is still next to him. He’s pulled a thin fleece blanket over himself but is awake looking up at the ceiling lost in his own thoughts. Val is suddenly aware of how bare he is, cold night air freezing his skin. Slowly he shifts himself forward, sliding under Vinyl’s warm blanket, keeping his eyes on Vinyl to make sure he's ok with this.  
  
Vinyl looks down at him over his dark and tired eye bags, a little startled having not noticed him wake up. He pulls Val closer to his side against his ribs and Val wraps an arm over his chest in exchange. Already feeling himself dozing off again, he mumbles some excuse about just being soft from the meds and then falls back asleep.  
  
The next time he wakes up it's still dark but Vinyl’s finally sleeping too. They’re both on their sides now, facing each other, wrapped up in each other, legs tangled together. Val buries his head into Vinyl’s neck trying not to think about how beautiful he looks asleep.  
  
Val realizes he feels safe. Vinyl’s muscular arms around him like a blanket, like a fitted leather jacket, like the sun in the sky.  
  
This is what he’d wanted, _this_ is how they were meant to be, holding each other. Why he’d thought violence was the answer -why he always seemed to default to that- he didn’t understand himself. But if he wanted to feel something, this is what he wanted to feel, not anger but kindness. Their bodies were built to hold each other, to be each other’s safety, to be each other’s protectors.  
  
Knowing that just last morning Val had tried to hurt (tried to _be_ hurt), it stung like acid, it stung worse than the bruises lining his spine. The way they fit together, they were made to be each other’s oases in this sterile loveless desert.  
  
Val slips off his mask and tosses it to the floor beside them, letting himself be comfortable, letting himself breathe. He can feel Vinyl’s sleeping heart beating against his own, steady, warm, and rhythmic.  
  
Though he doesn’t look around he knows it must be late now, surely by now there’d be many killjoys sleeping in the room around them, probably the V’s too, so he knows they’d all seen him and Vinyl like this. But for now he can’t bring himself to care. For now it’s just the two of them woven together. Val runs his hand through Vinyl’s long hair and lets himself sleep again.  
  
The next morning Val doesn’t wake up until the sun’s already high in the sky, heating the room up like a greenhouse. The first thing he’s aware of is that it’s just him twisted up in the fleece blanket by himself, sweaty and uncomfortable. He sits up quickly, panicked by his loneliness until he can remember where he is. Vaya smiles at him from the mattress next to his. They’re sitting with their legs crossed eating Power Pup out of a can. Intelligently they say nothing, just holding a knowing smile.  
  
With the bright sunlight stinging at Val’s dry eyes, he collapses back onto the bed face down, feeling around at the floor above him for his mask. When his fingers graze over the elastic strap he takes it and shoves it over his bedhead and over his flushed face.


	3. Blue Afterimages

Val doesn’t force himself up again for a while longer. He rests his eyes against the soft pressure of the mattress under him, with the sun’s alarm clock radiation warming his achy back and the tired remnants of the painkillers fading. Absentmindedly, he twists his drac-fang necklace around in his hand, debating if he should just try to fall back asleep.  
  
He sits up only when he hears Vamos come in, loud and laughing and inciting Vaya to start shouting excitedly too about who knows what. It’s a never ending headache with these two. The ruckus they make pierces his skull and leaves his ears ringing. When he lifts it, his head protests with another bout of dizzy stabbing pain.  
  
Vamos notices Val glaring threateningly. “Need another?” they ask, offering him a tablet of Battery Acid. “Vinyl said you’d probably need another.”  
  
Val takes it from them without arguing. Of course Vinyl’s right. Still, Val makes a mental note that he won’t allow himself another med that day. This shit comes from the city and he doesn’t want to accidentally get himself hooked.  
  
And then a different doubt chews at him as the painkiller dissolves.  
  
“Thanks, Vamos,” he mutters. He picks up Vaya’s leftover Power Pup and with the spoon he scrapes at what’s left on the inside walls of the can. The twins are sitting cross legged across from each other, noticeably quietly, going about their business organizing some beads in a plastic case.  
  
“So… you and Vinyl…”  
  
Vaya lightly smacks their sibling’s leg, “Shut up,” they whisper-shout to them through their teeth.  
  
Val just pretends to not have noticed, focusing only on his breakfast for now. It takes a while before his eyes completely adjust to the sharp morning light, but this bright atmosphere is refreshing he’ll confess.  
  
When he's finished with it, Val puts the can back down, laces up his boots, and then wordlessly stands to leave. As he passes through the busy living room he looks around for Vinyl, and then glances around the cluttered kitchen as he strolls through that too.  
  
But Val doesn’t spot him until he walks through the front door, firmly latching it behind himself as fresh air welcomes him outside. Momentarily blinded again by the harsh white daylight, he can see Vinyl and Volume standing over a burnt out fire pit nearby, informally organizing the scrap wood around it and sharing a six pack of juice between themselves.  
  
Val hooks his thumbs in his belt loops and briskly joins them. Forcing himself into their conversation, but starting a new one.  
  
“We need to talk. About yesterday.”  
  
Vinyl looks at him expectantly, sunlight illuminating his soft strong face.  
  
“We need to establish some boundaries between us.”  
  
Vinyl shifts on his weight and looks away, but nods despondently, compliantly.  
  
Volume raises a finger uncertainly interrupting the two, “Um, should I-”  
  
Val holds up a hand silencing him.  
  
“We’re friends, Vinyl. And if you really want to, I do not mind being so … close,” he chooses his words carefully, sneering slightly, “Obviously this is becoming a habit anyway, This isn’t the first time we- but we’re just friends, okay? Yesterday meant nothing.”  
  
Vinyl bites his lip and nods faintly again. He avoids making eye contact with Val, whose intense gaze is unbreaking.  
  
Volume squints and takes a sip of his soda before giving his two cents, “You sure? I mean, it’s not my business to be pushing labels on you two but I saw you last night and I don’t think men who are ‘just friends’ act like that.”  
  
Val frowns at him, “It just wouldn’t be smart to get into a relationship. Alright?”  
  
“Why? You didn’t hesitate with that concept when _we_ were together, or is this just because I’m third wheeling. Cause if it’s me I just-”  
  
“It’s not _you_ ,” Val tugs on his own bangs, exasperated. “Volume, Vinyl, I don’t know what you want me to say but it just wouldn’t be a good idea to go any further than we already have. That’s my final statement.”  
  
“Okay, sorry, I should’ve just left,” Volume awkwardly puts his can down and walks off, leaving Vinyl and Val to themselves, tense.  
  
Val sighs, “Just. Look. We’re in a fucking gang. This isn’t the goddamn Brady Bunch here! We’re killjoys in a gang, and I’m the leader of this gang, and we kill monsters for a living, and I’ve got a broken fuckin’ nose right now and you... _what?_ You wanna _date?_  
  
If we drop our guard too much, one of us is gonna end up hurt. And I wouldn’t be surprised if it’d end up being my fault. I can’t hurt you, Vi. I refuse to do that. We have more important things to kill.  
  
And, you know what? Speaking of that eventuality: It sure as hell _is_ an eventuality! Soft or not, Look around you, _both_ of you look around!” he shouts to Volume too, still listening in from the Nest’s front step, “Killjoys drop dead like flies out here. One day one of us is gonna get hurt,” he steps up to Vinyl, uncomfortably close, forcing him to return Val’s stare, “So, what happens when you curtain call? Where would that leave me? I couldn’t handle it if I let myself get too attached to something so impermanent. Don't be a screwhead.”  
  
“Fuck you, Valentine,” Vinyl utters, more insulted than Val expected. And Vinyl leaves again, walking around Volume and through the Nest’s front door, which slams behind him conclusively.  
  
Volume is sitting there a little astonished. Eyes wide with a hint of anxiety, he looks from where Vinyl had exited and then back to Val.  
  
“You want something?” Val angrily taunts.  
  
Volume slowly starts to stand and Val looks away, running his hand over the bridge of his nose under his mask shamefully. The swelling throbs at his fingertips. He doesn’t look up when Volume accompanies him again, arms crossed.  
  
“You remember why we broke up?”  
  
Val groans, “No. Enlighten me.”  
  
“When we first met, I was completely taken by your personality. You were impulsive, independent, you knew what you were doing and you were fun. You were just totally fucking bonus track.”  
  
“ _Thanks_.”  
  
“But it was those same exact traits that once I got to know you, really got to know you a few years in, I couldn’t stand. You’d make rash and dangerous decisions, putting yourself, and me, at risk. And what I’d previously seen as strong independence was just a reckless rebellious facade, no real thought behind it, not really. Like if you keep running fast enough no one’ll ever stop you to realize you’re just making it up as you go along, you know?”  
  
He rolls his eyes and stuffs his hands into his back pockets, “ _Inspiring_. Thank you-”  
  
“Stop interrupting me, I’m getting somewhere here-”  
  
“You are?”  
  
“Val!”  
  
He looks at Volume and tolerably shrugs, telling him to continue.  
  
“I think it’s like you said, we’re a gang and you're our leader. I think that’s good, I think you do a great job at that. But I think you’ve internalized it too much. You wanna think you’re special? Then fine, think that. But you cling to that label like it’s all you are and you’ve convinced yourself that it makes you better than the rest of us. And worse yet, you’ve convinced yourself that it makes you less deserving than the rest of us, too. A government who exists solely to serve its people is a goddamn myth, Velocity. You have needs too.”  
  
“'Needs,' So what? You’re saying I should just rush into this until one of my rash, stupid impulses makes me- makes Vinyl and I get into another boxing ring like that, or something worse? Volume, if the things that made you love me made you stop loving me too, then wouldn’t it follow that I’m right? It’s best to keep a distance.”  
  
“I thought that too, actually. I thought I’d have to forcefully separate you and Vinyl after yesterday, that you'd be nothing but toxic for him. But you should’ve seen him this morning, he was glowing.”  
  
“Great, so now we gotta date because he thinks he’s in love with me?”  
  
“No, no, actually it was smart of you to establish a boundary like that. But those ‘needs’ I was talking about? I'm also talking about your need for self-improvement. You’ve neglected more than just your emotions.  
  
But is it a risk worth taking to drag Vinyl further into your life under the promise of personal growth -if you’d even promise that in the first place? There’s no easy answer here.  
  
Besides, you’re not being clever. I know your rant was more than just you setting boundaries. You’re pushing him away. You’re pushing him away while also pulling him toward you. But you can’t have both. You can’t alienate yourself from him -and from your emotions- while also begging him to get closer. Have some respect.” Volume adjusts the bandana around his neck thoughtfully.  
  
“I _am_ having respect!”  
  
“No you’re not! That’s the issue! That’s the root of this whole situation. You treat him like he’s your little dog, like you can have him when you want him and forget him when you don’t. Like you’ve got him wrapped around the barrel of your gun to do whatever it is you ask of him at a moments notice, to kill dracs for you, to validate your opinions for you, and now, apparently, to beat you up whenever you’re confusing your homosexual and self-destructive tendencies with each other!  
  
And then it backfires. And he falls in love with you like the big fucking puppy he is. And you don’t talk about it with him, you talk about it _at_ him. He can think for himself you know, we all can. You’re not being clever acting like we don’t. We’re all adults here, not just you.”  
  
Taken aback, Val breathes in deep. He holds it for a moment before exhaling.  
  
“Okay. What do you propose I do then.” Beneath his contempt it's a genuine question.  
  
Volume stands there in silence, as stumped as Val is. “I don’t know.”  
  
“I’m not clever, fine, but I’m not stupid either. I know I’m like this, I’m not always the most…” he rubs the back of his neck nervously, “…healthy person to be around. I know I get brash, I know I get paranoid, I know I'm mean. I know, I know. But if me establishing distance is disrespecting both Vinyl and myself, and me getting close to him is hazardous, then what's the solution? Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. Or am I just stuck in a trap of my own dysfunction-”  
  
Volume laughs at his melodramatics, breaking the tense air for a moment, “I think you’re still pushing yourself into that leader persona! You don’t need to figure this out by yourself, that’s what I’m saying! You needa actually include Vinyl in this conversation. He’s not a bystander, he’s part of it!" He sighs amused, "Fuck, even the way you’ve been thinking about yesterday, talking about it like it was all your fault… he didn’t have to hit you back you know, you’re _both_ pieces of shit.”  
  
Val laughs at that, “Alright.” He starts walking back to the Nest but stops in the doorway for a moment to turn back to Volume, hands on his hips, and says “Thanks.”  
  
When Val finds Vinyl, he’s in the sunny living room with Vaya, Vamos, and a few other killjoys, making bracelets and necklaces with the beads that the twins had gathered that morning. They’re sitting in a crafting circle around scattered materials on the worn carpet floor, Vinyl being the closest to the entranceway with his hunched back turned toward Val.  
  
Vaya waves and calls over, “Come help us make matching bracelets!” They hold up a piece of neon teal kandi as an example. It has their name spelled out on it in square white letter beads, and there’s a glassy charm dangling off the opposite end displaying the letter “V”.  
  
Val pulls back his bangs, sighs, and forces a smirk, “Sure, but I’m just gonna watch.” He sits down slowly, to the left of Vinyl, but he doesn’t look, acting as if it’s just a coincidence that’s the spot he chose.  
  
Vamos is to Val’s left showing him their bracelet, nearly identical to Vaya’s but pink and with their own name on it.  
  
“I made you one too,” they say.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I kinda figured you wouldn’t wanna make any, so,” they take his hand and slide a bracelet onto his wrist. The beads alternate between red and white, and “VAL” being spelled out across it in all caps makes him happier than it should. He rotates his arm looking it over. A content warmth spreads through his chest.  
  
“Thank you, Vamos.”  
  
In a daring move he glances up at Vinyl then. He’s decorating a necklace with chunky colorful beads of various shapes and sizes. As he works, the kandi on his wrist glints, the V charm twinkles. The matte beads circling it are black and red.  
  
Val turns away again quickly. He reaches forward and grabs a random handful of beads and a strand of scrap string for himself.  
  
He ties one end of the white string into a thick knot, and one at a time he delicately slides a small round bead along the thread until it reaches that end. The beads stack upon each other, random colors, just whatever he grabs. He’s not thinking about the design, he doesn’t care. Just something to keep his hands occupied, and maybe his mind too. Soon, he runs out of plain beads, but there’s still string left so he moves onto the more intricate ones he’d picked up. A faux-metal bead in the shape of the sun, a marigold shaped one, a sizable blue cube with some foreign language engraved into the sides, a red heart. The string fills up. Val ties the loose end to the knotted end, creating a perfect loop, a messy lopsided piece of jewelry, but it is what it is. He looks over at Vinyl again.  
  
Despite not devoting any effort to his own art, he’s still caught in a moment of envy looking at Vinyl’s. The necklace is as haphazard as Val’s bracelet is at first glance but there’s a purposeful beauty to it. The way Vinyl works steadfast, continuously, and with ease, is impressive. Val’s eyes follow the path of his hands going from the string to the bead pile and back again with meaning, creating something beautiful one charm at a time shining in this light.  
  
Val’s eyes leisurely trace up Vinyl's dependable arms. Why is it that he gets so distracted by the way Vinyl moves, the way his muscles turn on each other in just casual movement? Everyone has arms, everyone has bodies, but for some reason Vinyl’s is too captivating. And it isn't lust, it’s wonder. Soft yellow sunlight brushes over them.  
  
As mortifying as it is, Val wishes he could’ve woken up next to Vinyl this morning. He grieves the missed opportunity that he’d been unknowingly denied. Val focuses again on the rise and fall of Vinyl’s shoulders, the way his dark hair veils his face and neck. His face.  
  
Vinyl’s defined face is resting, serious. Under tense brows his eyes stare ahead, damp and red, as he works. Val’s gut falls. He instantly blushes realizing he’d been staring so long that Vinyl had surely noticed by now, _is that why he’s crying?_  
  
Val places a hand on Vinyl’s knee, “I fucked up.”  
  
Vinyl looks at him, an apprehensive face half obscured by hair.  
  
“I’m s-” Val pauses, “I need us to just be friends. I need that, I wish I didn’t but I do. But I also need you to understand.” He’s trembling again and though he’s trying his best to mask it, he can’t say for sure how unnoticeable it is. Fragilely, Val switches his hold from Vinyl’s knee to his hand, interlocking their fingers. With a feathery grip and his eyes lowered, he pulls Vinyl’s hand in front of his chest and thoughtlessly in an intricate ritual, he pushes his makeshift bracelet over Vinyl's wrist. Vinyl pulls his hand away.  
  
Val looks up. “I need to know what you’re thinking. I need your opinions too.”  
  
Vinyl contemplates his new bracelet, smiling. Val has to bite his tongue to stop himself from pointing out how ugly, how stupid it was. But he knows it’s not the bracelet itself Vinyl’s happy about. And before Val realizes it, Vinyl leans over and plants a kiss on his forehead, his answer.  
  
Val pretends not to be flustered, “And you’re fine with not labeling this?”  
  
Vinyl nods. His voice is drawn and gruff, “Just no more fighting... or insincerity.” Gently he lifts Val’s chin and smiles sadly at him. He mouths, _I’m sorry too_.  
  
“I... I care about you so much.”  
  
Vinyl leans in and kisses his head again. Val returns the favor with a quick peck to his cheek, unable to stop himself from smiling. He rests his face against Vinyl’s body, flinching a bit when his nose makes contact with his collarbone, having completely forgotten about how bruised he still is. His hand finds Vinyl’s.  
  
Vamos cheekily interrupts the moment, “Sooooo, how’s it going?”  
  
“Don’t test my patience, motorbaby," Val quietly growls. Vinyl runs his free hand through Val's hair, sending chills up his spine.  
  
“And you’re _not_ an item right now?”  
  
“Who cares? Who cares,” Val moves closer against Vinyl, who's shaking his head “no” in response to Vamos as well.  
  
Val whispers just to Vinyl, “I'll get better, we’ll be better, I promise.”  
  
Vinyl’s eyes smile back. He returns to jewelry making as Val watches from his arm, happy.  
  
His necklace almost complete, Vinyl adds the last few beads. And once he ties it off, he slips it over Val's head and starts on another one. Val closes his eyes, warm light leaking through his lids, and nestles into Vinyl's neck. He rests like that as Vinyl continues crafting. Indistinct chatter surrounds them from killjoys going about their business and the twins continuing to rope people into their little crafting project. At some point Volume joins the group, lightly patting Val’s head to announce his presence as he sits down next to them.  
  
Vinyl places another finished necklace around Val’s neck, a comforting weight. His eyes flutter open and he looks around at the home encircling him. And at his friends, cheerful and affectionate, caught up in their own activities, dusted by speckles of golden sunlight. 


End file.
